Beside Her Grave
by Peta2
Summary: Sophia has been released from the barn and buried while Carol tries not to lose her mind completely in the RV. But when she comes back to earth, can she see how much hurt she may have caused with her actions? Yes, we're re-doing THAT scene.
1. Chapter 1

A/N I have been tossing up whether to turn this into something other than a one shot, if for no other reason but for the fic to fit the title, LOL. I will not mark it complete until I have decided whether I do another part, and obviously, whether this is any interest will have a bit to do with my decision. So, if you want more, you're going to have to ask. Plain and simple?

Thank you, as always, to my beta Susan, for pointing out the faults, and for the bestest friend a girl can have—Tami—for allowing me to fall deeply into this fandom and following me in the ride.

I do NOT own these characters, sad, very sad but true.

Beside Her Grave

It wasn't until the sun was beginning to set, and she heard activity in the camp, that Carol finally drifted from her fog of grief to realise what she'd done. Her daughter was dead, now laid to rest in the ground and she'd boycotted the service out of anger. Had flung Daryl aside like he caused it all.

She felt cold and empty, the night air pinching at her skin with a briskness warning of cooler days and colder nights on the way. Her hands shook as she tried to rub the cold from her arms, her face tight from the tears that had flooded her cheeks. Her body felt numb, but not so much as her heart. As if in a daze, she turned from the window she'd spent the better part of the afternoon staring out of and seeing nothing, noticing at last that the descending darkness gave her nothing in that window now but her own reflection. She couldn't look at that—had spent the last fifteen years or more trying to never see her own reflection in case Ed thought she was prideful. A harsh laugh tore from her throat. She could never work out what he thought she was proud of. She was nothing special, no great looker and he'd told her so often she'd been lucky he'd come along and joined his life to hers or she'd have entered old age never having had a man.

It was only lately she'd realised he hadn't been a man either. Daryl Dixon was a man—deep, loyal, strong, brave. Ed Peletier had been little more than nothing—a bully brandishing a regular pay check that kept a roof over their heads and a rod in his hand as he'd beaten the gratitude into her back. He'd been a miserable drunk, an evil predator who had started turning eyes toward his own daughter and Carol knew with a certainty she'd be fighting for Sophia's innocence had he not been killed that night at the quarry. She hadn't been lying when she'd told Daryl that his contribution to finding her daughter far outweighed anything Ed Peletier had ever done for his own flesh and blood. Ed had done nothing for no one his whole life, unless it was for Ed himself.

Carol slowly stood, pushing awkwardly out of the booth, her legs feeling weak from sitting for so long. She felt dizzy, sick, and reached for the edge of the table to steady herself. There was no one in the RV now, no one wanting to encroach on her space and while she was grateful, the memory of Daryl sitting there, watching her as she tried not to fall apart was suddenly a craving she felt settle deep in her gut. He'd rejected every form of physical contact between them so far, but today he'd wrapped his arms around her to keep her from reaching Sophia—kept her alive in case she'd had some stupid idea in her head of letting herself get bitten. He'd held her tight as she started to lose herself and when the dust had settled around her shattered life, she'd wrenched herself free, threw him away like he was nothing.

Daryl already thought himself nothing too often for her to let him continue thinking it now. She wasn't selfish enough to think that no one else grieved in this camp with her—Sophia had meant something to them all and with only a few exceptions, they'd all clung to the belief she'd be found. They'd all _believed _Daryl would find her. Carol wasn't sure why they'd all had more faith in Daryl than Daryl had had in himself, but they had and she thought it was time he understood that.

She thought it was about time she apologised for being the bitch that threw his comfort away when he'd probably been hurting almost as much as her—though she still didn't quite understand why. She thought it might have something to do with that story Andrea had told her he'd shared the night they'd both gone out looking for Sophia. About how he'd been lost in the woods for nine days and not one of his family looked for him, let alone knew he was gone. Nine days for a little boy to not be loved or missed. Carol's heart broke for the pain he must have grown up with. For the _neglect. _

Or maybe he'd searched and searched for Sophia because he'd not been able to search more for Merle. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that he knew she was sorry—for not letting his arms console her, for not letting him own his own pain, and for not standing beside him at her own daughter's grave.

Carol stood on the edge of camp, her dazed gaze searching for his tent but not finding it amongst the rest of the group's camp. Lori approached her and Carol flinched at how careful the other woman was, how gentle she was as she took Carol's hand and led her to the side of the camp, away from the others as they sat and ate their supper.

"He packed up all his stuff and moved back over the field. He's got a small fire going so you can see which way to go." Lori pointed it out and Carol squinted at how far away he'd gone. Her heart sank. So much damage had been done, and so much of it done unthinkingly by her. She nodded her thanks to Lori, distracted, her eyes barely leaving that small glow of his campfire as she started to put one foot in front of the other.

He wasn't going to take her appearance well. She knew it with the same certainty that had always known when Ed's was at his weakest. She wasn't afraid of Daryl, but she was scared of this moment. She had no doubt it would be painful as he struck out and did his best to hurt her. She'd learned well over the years how to shield herself from ugly words, but even she knew that there would always be one or two that slipped through. She had to allow Daryl to express his grief someway, but she was terrified of what it would do to them both.

She didn't see him immediately, her soft approach a surprise as she'd felt her heart knocking up a din something awful in her chest. She saw his kills strung across a line, and a shoelace that looked like it had ears threaded on it. Carol stopped at it, feeling a pit of nausea rise in her stomach, but then shook it away. Daryl was different, she knew, but if he had a necklace of ears then he'd have a reason for it. She was close to smiling about it when he was suddenly there, in front of her spitting fire and anger in her face.

"What are you doin'?"

"Keepin' an eye on you," she admitted, suddenly afraid of how hard that was going to be now that he'd distanced himself with such finality. It was hard to reconcile that he was back to this, taking back his hatred of them, all because her little girl died and his hope right along with it.

He circled her, making her nervous but his, "Ain't you a peach," almost broke her heart anew.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away." As if she had any hope of stopping him if he was determined, and if he hadn't already cut the strings that bound them. Her fear built until she shook with it, but losing it right now wasn't going to help—not her and especially not him. She had a feeling that Daryl had felt a lot of rejection in his life and had probably had little chance to fight against it. His father, his brother, maybe even his mother had stood by while this man had grown from a little boy too used to having happiness kicked out of him. If she had any chance of drawing him back to her, to the _group, _she had to play this with a wisdom she'd never had before. "You've earned your place."

He was straight back in her face. "If you spent half your time minding your daughter's business instead of sticking your nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive."

With years of training, Carol let his words roll off her like water off a duck's back. If she allowed them to strike her she knew she wouldn't be able to do this, wouldn't be allowed to give him what he really needed from her.

"Go ahead."

She'd never given Ed permission to hurt her, not like she was inviting Daryl to do, but deep in her soul she knew she'd never shared anything she truly cared about with Ed. Physically they'd shared a daughter, but not the emotion or devotion that came with being parents. Not like she'd shared Sophia with Daryl. Maybe not while her daughter was flesh and blood between them, but her memory, her importance, her love, she'd shared that all with Daryl and she felt he knew it. That that was a small part of why he hurt so bad now that he had to withdraw from them all lest they see exactly how much Sophia's loss cut into him.

His expression softened as she gave him sanction to let loose on her, and confusion crept into his eyes.

"Go ahead and what?" He stared at her, emotion bubbling up inside him and Carol felt tears bite the inside of her throat at the pain he could barely share. "Just go. I don't want you here." He was constantly moving, back and forth, further away.

She didn't, couldn't move and suddenly he was right up against her, the heat from his body passing the air's stillness to sear into her flesh. His finger slashed through the air in front of her face so that his words could eat at her heart a little faster. "Lady, you're a real piece of work. What, you gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that? Hey, you don't know Jack. You're afraid 'cause you're all alone. No husband. No daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself."

Her silence was difficult for him to handle, she could tell, and secretly hoped this would be over soon. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his words, laced heavily with truth.

"You ain't my problem."

Why did that hurt more than anything else he'd said? Then his anger whipped out of control and her fear at how this might end took hold.

"Sophia wasn't mine. All you had to do was keep an eye on her," he shouted in her face and it was the last thing Carol could take. She flinched back, a cry in her heart but her lips refusing to let it out. She was unable to hold back the tears, though, and even though they made his image blur, she stared at him and hoped he could believe everything she wanted to say and see the words she didn't think she could.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He stalled, stunned that she'd be apologising to him when it was he that had slashed at her with words designed to wound, and wound deep.

"What?" He stumbled back, baffled and hurting and Carol took a step toward him, closing the distance he was trying to create.

"I wasn't even thinking," she began, hugging her arms around herself at the vivid image of Sophia as she'd left that barn once the gunfire had finally ceased. "All I wanted was to hold her. Wasn't thinking she could bite me. That's not what I want, Daryl."

Shock turned to hope as he searched her face for some truth in what she was saying. Carol thought they probably all had thought she'd want to follow her daughter into death. She wasn't overly valued in the group, she knew that. Cooking and cleaning and repairing tattered clothing would only take her so far—especially if she didn't learn how to protect herself and others soon. She didn't want to 'check out', though, like Jenner and Jacqui. She wanted to live, even if her daughter was dead. Even if the only thing that gave her life light and meaning was gone forever.

"I'm…grateful to you for stopping me. For holding me back." She looked him boldly in the eye. "For protecting me from Sophia." She took another step closer and put her hand on his arm, ignoring the spark of nerves that told her this was it, the point where he chose to become lost and turn his back on them all for good, or to take the comfort that she so willingly offered. "And I'm sorry for pushing you away—outside the barn and in the RV. I should have gone with you to bury her." Tears were flowing heavily now and Carol gulped hard. "I wish I had."

Carol suddenly saw how horrible the silent treatment was, and rushed to fill it with words just like Daryl had, but she hoped hers didn't strip him down but built him up and gave him the belief in himself Carol now knew he'd never had.

"You're a good man, Daryl. A _great_ man," she said with feeling, knowing it deep in her heart. She paused, the thoughts racing through her head making her flesh tingle and a hum of need vibrate throughout her entire body. "If Sophia had been yours," she breathed, terrified, "she'd never have gone missing. She'd never have been bit. If Sophia had been yours, she'd have _known_ what it felt like to mean something to her daddy."

Her hand had been resting on his arm but now she swept her fingers down, marvelling at the sensation of goosebumps erupting on his flesh. She captured his hand, gently curling her fingers around his and marvelling that he hadn't yanked it away. That he hadn't thrown away her touch like she was fire. She stared at them, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as her tears stopped and gradually dried on her cheeks. She couldn't believe he was still there, holding her hand like they'd been doing it for weeks. Feeling punch drunk and on the edge of something tremendous, she took another step closer, her thumb sweeping absently against his palm and her chest barely an inch from his. Her other hand came up unbidden and she placed her palm against his heart, raising her gaze to finally lock with his. The anger that had fuelled him before was gone, replaced with something she thought might have been fear.

"I don't want to be your problem," Carol whispered, her throat dry and husky.

"What _do_ you want?" Daryl asked after several beats and Carol struggled to breathe. What did she want? When she'd found her way to his camp she'd just wanted to let him grieve, wanted to bring him back to the group and apologise for throwing his embrace away. Now she was bombarded with sensations in her body: grief and pain, passion and, something close to love. She gasped, shocked at the turn of her thoughts, but hopeful because he was still there, not pulling away and rejecting her. There turned out to be too much that she wanted from him, and instead of muddying it with words, Carol took that last step between them and brushed her lips against his, her eyes falling shut as if drugged when his lips softened in surprise and he shyly returned her kiss. She sagged against him in relief as his arm curled around her back and she vowed to herself she'd never leave his embrace again until he was ready to release her. Carol's hand moved over his chest, feeling the raised bump of a scar under his shirt, the rounded curve of his shoulder, the smooth plane of his neck until she curled her fingers in his hair. Her mouth fell open and she moaned as he fell with her, his tongue flicking at her bottom lip before discarding all the rules and throwing himself into it with a passion she hadn't seen in him since he'd lost it at the quarry when told his brother had been left in Atlanta.

Carol stood in a daze when he pulled away. Her lips felt bruised, but unlike other bruises she'd worn throughout her life, this one felt good. She panted for breath and gave in to the desire to rest against him, her face finding a place over his heart. He released her fingers and put his other arm around her, holding onto her tightly enough so that she could feel how his body shuddered against hers. She breathed him in deeply, following another impulse and kissed his neck. It was an intimacy that pushed beyond their first kiss and Carol smiled at the jump of his pulse against her lips.

They stood entwined, not speaking, until Daryl's fire had almost died out. He let her go but caught her hand before she could step away, led her to the fire and sat her down. He tossed some sticks on the dying embers and poked it until it flared up, adding some larger pieces of wood then stoked it until he was happy it would burn. Then he returned to her, sat down and pulled her into him, her back to his front and his arms wrapped tightly around her once again. He rubbed his cheek against hers and she smiled, turning just enough to catch the side of his face with her palm, looking deep in his eyes before she chanced another brief, almost chaste kiss, then turned back to the flames and settled against him. They watched the fire together until her lids drooped, and as she slept, he held her even tighter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N… Wow, I am overwhelmed by the response to the first part of this fic. I hadn't initially planned on it going anywhere, but I figured as so many seemed to like it, I would give it a shot! As you can see, there isn't a huge plan or plot, no action at all, and other than this, I'm not sure where else I can go with it. If you really want me to continue it, I'd love some feedback and some ideas.

I have been replying by PM to the reviews on my other fic, but this one got a much more enthusiastic reception so Im saying thank you here. Thank you Crystal2817, Axelrocks, MooseDeEvita, peonies01, spygirrl99, Guest (was this you, Rae?), alexis0392, crazstiz, whitnesstoitall, Marteen (your very kind words made my head spin—in a good way!), bspooky3, and last but hopefully not least, HGRHfan35.

After such a cracker start, I hope this instalment isn't a disappointment!

Part Two

He'd woken up well before the sun began to stretch into the sky, his fire almost dead, to find her gone. His body ached from sleeping outside awkwardly in the dirt and at first he'd thought it'd all been a dream.

He'd spent half the day before in a simmering rage. Every time he saw her—every time he was reminded that he'd stood alone as the group had lowered Sophia into her tiny grave—it was whipped up into a more intense burn. So much energy he'd spent trying to find that little girl, refusing to let Carol give up on her or let her go entirely, and one slaughter session of the walkers in the barn brought it all crashing down on his head.

The firing squad had seen her first, all of them lined up across the front of the barn, guns blazing like it was some kind of Western movie, and he almost wished they could have stayed that way, or that Carol had become so disgusted that she'd left the show early. But she hadn't, and as the smoke from the gunfire had started to settle, and her little girl stumbled out from the darkness within the structure, he'd counted. Counted the seconds as if in slow motion for the one when Carol would see, and understand, and snap at losing her girl.

He was so rattled by that little girl, growling and flinching at the sunlight as she finally smelled life. Their life. And on filthy shoes and spindly legs she'd come for them, starting out slow, unsure of herself stumbling past the dropped bodies of her barnmates, but she smelled them and came for them and then Carol saw.

It was reflex that had Daryl grab her before she could reach the child, but it was pure intent that held her against him, collapsing when she did to their knees. It was a decision to hold her back once the shot was fired, and it was desperation to spare her as he tried to drag her up and away from the situation, wishing to fuck someone was there to drag him away from it as well. He'd not expected her to wrench herself free of him like she had, aiming such a cold, hard look of betrayal his way, and couldn't help but be hurt about it as well. Grief was a funny thing, he knew, and hit everyone different. So he'd taken a deep breath and followed, finding her in the RV staring out the window, her expression vacant. She'd looked at him, saying very little with her eyes, and he felt uncomfortable. Felt dismissed. He chose to stay put, suddenly fearful she'd do something they'd both regret, like run into the woods without a weapon, or just finish herself off when no one was looking.

And he knew no one would be. Carol seemed to be the blind spot in this camp—the one the others only saw when she handed them a plate of food or a folded pile of laundry, or ignored entirely because her child was gone and they'd not been able to find her and now they felt uncomfortable in her presence. None, he suspected, had looked her truly in the eye since. Now they busied themselves trying to do right by her, and Daryl knew how uncomfortable she'd be standing in the middle of all their focus like they suddenly knew she'd been there the whole time.

She'd been responding to him, though he wasn't fool enough to think it was for any reason other than him looking for her little girl. His search had given them both meaning—given him a purpose and a reason to still be part of this group when by rights he probably should have taken off the second they'd not been able to find Merle. He didn't belong with them, bunch of middle-class family types with their flashy appliances and homes in suburbia. Hadn't felt right to leave them, though, especially after half their number was slaughtered and each of their families shrunk a little bit more. Didn't feel right to leave that little girl without a daddy for protection, though now he understood the piece of shit would hardly have looked out for anyone beyond number one. Suddenly he wished he could have put at least one thrust of his axe through Ed Peletier's head, just so he could have felt the same satisfaction Carol must have done when she realised she was in a world finally free of him.

Her refusal to attend the burial shocked him. While he'd sat on the cabinet in the RV he'd entertained some kind of notion that they'd have been graveside together. He'd held her in his arms, a comfort he'd never offered to any woman before, and the shattered picture of their grief now had nowhere to turn. She'd dismissed him again, blocked him out of her pain and he knew that he'd caused at least half of it, so it was probably right of her to punish him. He left her there, stood at that small grave with the others like it was a farce—what kind of funeral was it when the girl's own mother refused to show? One of the last to leave, he couldn't face her or any of the others again and he left for the woods, looking for his own place to grieve without being the object of shallow concern.

He hadn't been fool enough to shed tears while he'd been gone. Even then, as his heart had cracked and his eyes stung, he'd been wary of walkers. Alert for danger. He'd run across nothing to take his anger out on and so he'd returned to his camp fit to strike down anyone who crossed his path.

He'd almost wavered when it had been _her. _Almost apologised a hundred times over as every accusation raced out of his mouth, watching and waiting for the impact to hit. Every time it bounced off her and rolled away he pulled out another one, and renewed his fury, renewed his guilt because while Sophia wasn't his, she was. She belonged to the whole group now and her death was on all of them. He didn't want Carol to be his problem, but she was, because he was the only one of them who remembered her, and would protect her as much as he could. He should have been protecting her from himself, he'd thought, but then knew he'd _tried _by moving himself away. He thought he'd at least have another day to get his shit together before she came searching for him. She'd been locked away inside herself all day, it'd been a reasonable expectation that she'd not even think of him for a bit.

Seemed like he was wrong…again. Story of his whole damned life, to be wrong over and over again. He thought she wanted a hero, he'd tried to be one. He thought she'd needed protecting, he'd done it best he could. He thought she hadn't wanted to be alone—he'd tried, but when it hurt too much to _try _it was an indication he needed to get out before he broke all to pieces.

She confused the fuck out of him, and even asking her directly got him the biggest shock of his life.

She'd kissed him, and what the hell was he to make of that? Did she want him? Was she expecting him to step in as her man, a step up from Ed but just barely? Or was it just a kiss, a one time deal to share her grief with the only other person who'd shouldered Sophia's disappearance as much as her? The fuck if he knew, so instead of trying to work it out, he'd surrendered.

He hadn't been able to think with her lips on his anyway, and as much as he'd wanted to pull away, for once his body hadn't responded. His brain had sensed no danger, which was a fucking joke if ever there was one, and instead he'd kissed her back. He'd welcomed her against his body, feeling the buzz on his flesh wherever they touched—and rather more of them touched than he'd ever expected she might have wanted to, and way more than he'd ever thought he'd allow.

When it was ended and she snuggled into him, still holding his damn hand like he'd seen Lori do with Rick, he shuddered at how right it had seemed then near fell to his knees when he felt her warm lips kiss the base of his throat.

So he'd held her, sat in front of his fire and let her drift off to sleep while he just about went crazy trying to figure out if she'd answered his question or if she'd blitzed him with some kind of surprise attack. A kiss on its own didn't mean much of anything, he knew, but as his own lids grew heavy, he couldn't help but hope it might have meant something.

So when he awoke and found her gone, it was easy for him to at first think he'd dreamt it all, that it was quite some fantasy he had had of kissing her on the day she lost her girl, knowing it was sparked from having the woman in his arms as he held her away from Sophia. Wasn't the first time he'd had a yearning in his gut toward her—he'd never apologised to anyone in his whole life, except his daddy when the piece of shit was wielding his belt and accusing Daryl of anything at all to justify the violence. But for Carol, he'd found himself softening and offering up parts of himself no one else had ever seen. Thinking it had all been a dream made him feel smaller somehow, but then he recalled her words, that he wasn't just as good as Shane and Rick, he was a great man to her and that she'd wished he could have been her girl's daddy, if only for the kid to know what it felt like to be loved. To be cared for. There was nothing inside him that would have ever suggested those kinds of words—in real life or in a dream, so Daryl knew she'd been there and that she'd spent at least part of the night curled up against him in front of his fire.

So where the fuck had she gone?

Her choices were limited, really. The RV—where someone might actually realise she was coming back from being somewhere _else _even if they'd never noticed she'd been gone in the first place—or her daughter's grave. It was an easy choice, so, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grabbing his bow, he was on it, hunting her down in the dark to give her a piece of his mind.

"The hell you thinkin', wanderin' around without tellin' anyone? You fixin' to get yourself killed?"

She barely responded to his anger and Daryl realised he'd probably not get away with it again. She seemed to see straight through his act of bravado, his pretence of scorn, and saw something inside him he'd rather have kept hidden from her. But with blinding insight, he knew he'd never be able to, that this woman knew what being battered about did to a person and so she gravitated right toward him.

Carol blinked up at him, her expression far away until she caught on to his concern and looked around her. The rest of the group were silently sleeping in their camp, except for Shane sitting up on the RV, scanning for threats. The ex-officer glanced in their direction and Daryl figured he could see the frown all the way from across the yard, even though he doubted Shane could actually see them in the dark.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She appealed to him now with a nervous glance and a hand reaching out for his, so he shrugged off the crossbow and crouched down beside her. She dropped her hand, looking at it like it was not her own, and he growled before seizing it and settling beside the grave on his ass.

Carol was silent beside him, breathing deep and methodically and he knew she was trying not to cry. She leaned against him, and his cheeks burned, thinking maybe, just maybe she really did want something more connected to that kiss. Her touch muddled his mind, making him think she couldn't let him go, hands all over him though she only held one of his hands, squeezing tightly, while her other rested alone in her lap.

"Sophia had a sister." Her voice was tight, filled with remembered pain and acceptance. Another child dead, like she lacked the ability to nurture life.

Daryl watched her, the news somehow shocking, though he was willing to bet she'd not shared much of her life with anyone else in their camp. Her back was straight as a rod and he sensed that she was afraid of him and how he'd take her story.

"I called her Louisa," she whispered, a faint smile curving her lips. Daryl wished the moon wasn't so full that he could so easily see her face, ravaged by tears and memories that should have made this life they were living more bearable, not all the more difficult. "She was premature, born at seven months when I…I fell down the stairs."

"That asshole pushed you, you mean?" he said, angrier than he'd been in a long time.

She didn't correct him, both of them knowing the state of her marriage before Ed became a walker snack.

"After, I was too afraid to try again and Ed had the sense to allow me to use contraception—"

"Mighty big of 'im," Daryl interrupted, wanting to kill him all over again.

"When I married him I thought I'd have three, you know? I had just enough time, I thought, but after Sophia came and he wasn't number one in the house anymore, he changed."

"You sayin' he started beatin' on you cause you had a kid? His kid?" He said it with a dull kind of acceptance that made his head hurt. Wasn't supposed to be like that, he knew that much. He'd known that not all the kids at school had to cover their bruises and scars, or have a healthy fear of doing an innocent thing and getting beat down for it by their daddies.

"Not really. Just made it worse," she amended, sighing deeply. "Thing is, I waited to marry him. Didn't date much and somehow was headin' toward thirty when we met. I probably wasn't lookin' as close to all the important things as I should've. I was lonely, an' I guess a little desperate, so when he asked me, I figured I wouldn't get another chance."

Carol looked at him hesitantly, then in some fancy manoeuvre he couldn't quite follow, she'd lifted his hand and arm until it now draped across her shoulders and she rested her head against his shoulder. He still wasn't sure what it meant—whether she was cold, in need of comfort or if she was trying to tell him something deeper.

"Did you love 'im?"

"Oh." She sniffled and he felt like an ass, wondering if he was pushing the confessions a little too far. "I told myself I did. After I lost Louisa, I had myself half-convinced that I deserved every single hit because I'd been lyin' to us both."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking hard.

"No, Daryl. I didn't love him."

There were words on the air that she didn't say, though, and it hurt his head trying to pluck them out of nothing. In his own head Merle was reminding him that not one of this group could ever care for him the way Merle always had, but then Daryl could acknowledge that his head was almost always fucked up when it came to emotions and shit, so he couldn't rely on his own ability to work it out. And he wasn't going to ask. There was no way he was going to lay himself bare for her to tear him all to pieces. He'd have to wait, let her take the lead until what her true intentions were came to light once and for all.

She seemed to be finished her vigil now, leaning forward to pat the earth over her daughter's grave with the flat of her free hand. "Goodbye, Sophia. Stay safe."

He stood in one fluid motion, pulling her up with him. She was tired now, and stumbled against him, but she wrapped herself around him like a vine, her arms tight around his waist and her head became buried in his chest.

"No more mistakes, Daryl," she whispered against him sleepily and Daryl pulled her closer, hoping she didn't think this was one of them.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Just want to say that I am so very grateful to all of you that reviewed the last chapter and gave me the courage to keep it going. This was originally just a contemplative piece, a character study, and while that is generally how I write anyway, with so much enthusiasm I am forced to re-look at this and delve deeper. So, that kind of requires plot! I am about to go and respond to all of your amazing reviews, but just wanted to let you know now how great I think you all are. You gave me a tremendous boost. Now, on with Carol…

Oh, and my apologies, this chapter is unbetaed. If you find any glaring faults, please let me know.

Part Three

She'd made a decision, sitting beside Sophia's grave. While she sat in the dirt, remembering her past and cataloguing every single minute where she'd been a victim—where she'd suffered such _loss _as if it were her due—Carol decided she wasn't going to take it anymore. This world was hard, much harder than the one where she'd spent the last forty two years being meek and a coward, and it was time for her to finally find her backbone. If she'd found it earlier, she might have been able to save her own daughter from the horrible fate that had ripped her from her life. She wasn't going to be too hard on herself, though, and think she'd have been any better equipped to do what she had if she hadn't spent fifteen years as Ed's wife. He'd trained her to be weak-minded and accepting of whatever punishment life threw at her, and in thinking such thoughts, memories of her baby Louisa had flooded her mind.

She'd been so small when they'd presented the premature baby to her. Tiny, yet perfect, and as Carol remembered seeing that dead little bundle in her arms, she felt herself break all over again. She'd been so _foolish _to risk falling pregnant then, when her world had already become so violent. The only thing in her entire life that gave her any meaning had been Sophia, a beautiful, adventurous toddler and there Carol was, clinging to every hope and dream she'd had before she'd ever even met Ed—a life, a family, children. She'd wanted the trio, wanted the white picket fence and the man who would go to work and then come home and love her at night, the three children, one that looked like each of them and another for good measure. She'd wanted her children to not know what it was like to grow up lonely, being the sole focus of elderly parents that had waited to procreate until it was almost too late. And she'd almost waited too late herself, being too shy to take risks with men she'd met until her twenty-eighth birthday and she decided if she didn't throw caution to the wind, she'd die an old maid. Ed had never seemed perfect, but by then she was willing to overlook the flaws that cracked through their courtship in favour of that perfect life she'd craved with every single cell in her body.

She'd finished her wedding night with her dress torn and bruises colouring her skin, and when she'd seen her parents the next day after the wedding, she'd been a lot less happy than she had been during the festivities of the previous day. Her parents had suspected something was wrong—she was much more quiet than usual and suddenly reserved around her new husband—but they'd let her leave their house with her final remaining suitcase and so her life had truly descended into hell.

Yes, she'd been stupid to try to bring more than one child into her world, but after Louisa she learned fast not to make the same mistake again. And now, here she sat, two daughters in the ground, her husband as well, and she, the broken, abused survivor surrounded by people she didn't really know and walkers by the plenty.

It was for Daryl that she'd made the decision. Her life had been filled with underachievement, broken dreams and loss, and she'd be damned if she was going to go into her forty-third birthday with any more of it. She had Daryl to thank for it, this renewed sense of purpose, of strength and, starting today—once the sun finally signalled its start—she was going to take the first steps to change. This old Carol—this whining, broken pathetic woman she'd become—was going to be smarter, was going to come out a winner in this new world they'd found themselves in, and maybe she was going to find love in the most unlikeliest of men.

Her mother would have pitched a fit if she'd seen Daryl as he was at the quarry camp. If she'd seen Merle. She'd have ordered Carol to stay well away from that type, and Carol would have obeyed without question, being the dutiful, easily-frightened daughter that she'd been. No, she'd have missed Daryl's potential, just as much as she'd misjudged Ed's, and that thought made her heart sick. How she might have discarded the possibility of a man as honourable as Daryl while she'd once chosen to lay down with a wife-beater, she would never know, but she wouldn't make that kind of mistaken judgement again. Carol wasn't so sure she was ready to dive straight into another relationship, and she almost regretted her earlier kiss with Daryl because she knew it would confuse him about what she truly wanted from him. She _should _regret starting something she wasn't quite ready for—and she knew Daryl was far from accepting what could happen for them—but she couldn't dismiss the memory of how he'd felt against her body, against her lips. Couldn't dismiss the heat and clarity his kiss had given her. She couldn't turn away from him now even if she forced herself to try, but she'd take it slow and hopefully, between the two of them, they could both find healing within themselves so they could capture something good and strong and beautiful.

"The hell you thinkin', wanderin' around without tellin' anyone? You fixin' to get yourself killed?"

Carol jumped, never having heard his boots approach, so lost in her memories and plans for the future. She'd been foolish wandering off without telling him, even here on the farm. They weren't an island, surrounded by water. They were a farm, surrounded by fences made of sticks and wire and a moat of live cows to tempt any walker that heard their sporadic calls with dinner.

Their reunion was awkward, though Carol held in a smile when he sat and took her hand, her momentary disappointment seconds ago at his rejection of it as he'd taken a seat in the dirt all but forgotten as desire swept through her faster than wildfire.

She was still overcome with her melancholy memories, and so she opened up, for the first time really sharing some of her past with a member of the group. Sharing Louisa, like she'd never really done with another living soul. While he fidgeted beside her and grew angrier at the tragedies that had shaped her life, she knew that what she'd started between them was right. That it was something she wanted with all of her heart and if she wanted it that badly, she had to take action to achieve it.

Leaning forward, she gently patted the earth, imagining Sophia's innocent little face, and tears filled her eyes. "Goodbye, Sophia. Stay safe."

Daryl pulled her up and they stood, Carol bone weary and sore as she leaned into him, wanting the comfort only his arms could give her. Her hands slid around to his back and she pressed her face into his chest, wanting so much to go back to his tent and curl up with him, maybe kiss some more, but wary of pushing him further than he could go. Going too fast might frighten him off completely and that would be a mistake. A mistake she wasn't willing to make.

"No more mistakes, Daryl," she whispered against his neck, fighting the curl of butterflies in her belly, fighting the heat that tore through her body and made every nerve ending come alive. Fighting the very core of her that wanted to lay down with him and cement this thing that was developing.

"You plannin' on kissin' me again?" he asked and Carol could hear the vulnerability he couldn't quite hide. She smiled against his throat, feeling giddy as his pulse jumped rapidly against her cheek.

"Maybe later," she promised, whispering the words in his ear as her lips brushed against the lobe. His body was hot, his cheeks hotter as she pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek. "I'm kind of wiped."

"You need me to walk you back?"

She could hear his reluctance and she sighed, wondering if she'd already pushed him too far, but then she looked over and saw a figure on the roof of the RV and guessed that Daryl didn't want to be seen walking over in the middle of the night with her. An innocent kiss was one thing, but letting the camp known they'd spent the night together, even as platonic as it had been, might cause him more trouble than he would know how to deal with.

"I'm good," she said, already stepping away from him. "I'll see you later?"

There was a pause, long enough for Carol to stop breathing, wondering if he was planning on packing up and running away from her—running further than his new camp he'd set up to distance himself from them all.

"Place ain't that big," he said finally, toeing his boot into the dirt. "I'll be 'round somewhere."

Allowing the air to flow back into her lungs, Carol allowed a shy smile of relief to turn the corners of her lips and she nodded.

"I'll be countin' on it."

She fancied she could feel his gaze burning into her back as she quickly headed back to camp, and thought her step was a little lighter because of it. She was stepping back within the edge of their camp when she heard the gun cock.

"It's only me," she called out, terrified whoever it was on the RV would mistake her for a walker and shoot her in the head. Maybe she should have had Daryl bring her over after all.

"Carol?" Shane jumped down from the RV and walked over to her, clasping his hand around her arm and dragging her into the safety of the circle of tents. "You shouldn't be wanderin' around in the dark. I bet you don't even have a weapon."

Oh God, he was right, and this was one of those things she had to fix about herself, Carol thought.

"I need to change that," she said to Shane, hoping he'd have some idea of how she should start this metamorphosis.

"You're ready to learn how to defend yourself?" he asked, satisfaction and approval evident as he curled her into the arch of his arm and led her to the RV. "We'll discuss it in the mornin'. You should get on up there and try to get some sleep," he advised, Carol nodding in agreement.

"Thank you, Shane. I will."

In sudden impulse she hugged him, just a quick embrace to show how much she appreciated him taking her seriously and not shying away from her like the others had been doing since Sophia had been discovered in the barn. She knew some friction in the camp existed because of Shane, but so far he'd done right by her, so she'd give him the benefit of the doubt and suck up all the wealth of all his experience that he was willing to give her.

With a quick nod, he gently pushed her up the stairs and into the RV and Carol breathed in deeply. There wasn't much time before the morning sounds of the camp coming to life for a new day would begin, so without changing out of her clothes, Carol crawled on top of the bed and fell asleep as soon as her exhausted head hit the pillow.

Dale and Lori had dealt with breakfast that morning, both of them smiling sadly at Carol to show they believed she needed a break to deal with the issue of mourning. She should feel angry that they were taking away one of the few things that helped her to focus on something other than the loss of her daughter, but instead she found herself dwelling on Daryl while distractedly spooning up real eggs into her mouth. As if conjuring him in her mind, Daryl strode into camp, his crossbow slung over his shoulders as he walked toward Rick, but darting an anxious yet shy glance at her.

She swallowed hard, not being able to tear her eyes away from him and feeling her skin burn as he held her gaze. His head jerked in a quick, non-verbal greeting and Carol chanced a smile, feeling her heart pick up an extra beat when she saw the answering twinkle in his eye. She ducked her head, trying to involve herself once again in the delicious treat of Herschel's eggs but finding it difficult to curtail the grin that wanted to break across her lips. Quickly she looked again and almost dropped her plate when she found Daryl staring straight at her as he spoke to Rick. A blush burned her cheeks until she was certain everyone would see, but quite shockingly, no one paid her any mind. She felt stupid, like she was responding to a blossoming crush like a teenager.

Daryl didn't talk long, leaving the camp without looking at her again as soon as Rick agreed with whatever he'd said. Rather than be disappointed, Carol was relieved, suddenly doubting her ability to do the simplest things while he was around to watch her. She finished her breakfast then jumped into the fray, gathering up dirty dishes and diverting her attention to something more mind-numbing.

Before she'd gotten very far, Shane stepped out in front of her, leaning down to catch her eyes and then took the pile of dishes from her hands. "You about ready to have that talk now? I been thinkin' up ideas on how to toughen you up."

"Shane!" Lori shoved herself into the middle of them, pushing one delicate hand into Shane's chest and smacking him away. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Carol sidestepped the woman, a new warmth for their friendship blossoming in her chest. "It's okay, Lori. I asked Shane last night to help me learn how to defend myself. I don't want to be the only hopeless member of this group, dependin' on everyone else to keep me alive."

She wasn't quite prepared for the shocked gasps that echoed around the camp, but suddenly Carol realised that not one of them had ever expected her to step up. The abused wife, the poor grieving mother who'd lost her child, the one in the camp with nothing left to lose was finally wising up and not one of them had ever predicted it. Carol didn't know whether to be sad that they were all happy with her being so pathetic, or if she was mad that it had taken her so long to embrace the need to change.

"I think this is great," Andrea said, making her way to wrap Carol in a big hug. "But you know, this new Carol, maybe we can work in an image overhaul as well?" She looked over to Glenn and raised an eyebrow. "You up for a trip into town? It's about time we had a good look around for clothes and weapons. It's going to be getting cold soon."

Glenn nodded and jumped to his feet. "Shane, can we take the Hyundai? We might find something else useful, who knows?"

Shane nodded. "Keys are in the ignition, man."

"Andrea, are you saying you don't like how I dress?" Carol didn't know whether to be insulted or relived that someone was giving her permission to change the kind of clothes Ed had always demanded she wear.

"Oh, Carol, you know I love beige, but it's complete shit to wash walker guts off of." The blonde winked and Carol gasped out what she thought might have been a giggle.

"Okay, then be on the lookout for something red. If I'm going to change how I dress, I want there to be something red involved." A vision of the red dress she'd found on the highway made her sigh.

Plans made, Carol quickly went to clean up, brush her teeth and take some deep, steadying breaths while she was alone in the RV. It was all about to change, and she just hoped Daryl could roll with the punches.


End file.
